A/N: The friend I'm currently staying with put on the first movie this week when we were hanging out and I really did have to sit there with a straight face every time Norrington was on screen as if I hadn't spent the better part of this year writing 150k words of angsty fanfic about him. It's fine, it gave me the kick I needed to get this done. I've had the final bit of this chapter planned since I started this story, and finally writing it was highly intimidating but so much fun!

And on a personal front, the beginning process of filling out applications, being interviewed, and going through endless stressful meetings is finally coming to an end, and I should be starting the process of actually finding myself a long-term place to stay come the new year! Scary, but exciting and a very hopeful sign! Fingers crossed I find something appropriate. Thank you guys so much for being so supportive through all of this, I swear working on this and my Draco/OC fic has kept me sane and distracted through it all so far!

There were no repeats of what occurred on the beach after they left it behind, walking back to the house in total silence. There couldn't be, and they both knew it without having to discuss it. On James' side, Theo knew he simply was not that man - he had no intention of being the kind to breakfast with his wife before slipping into a dark corner with his lodger while the dishes were being cleared from the table. He wouldn't want to set any sort of precedent that might suggest otherwise. The kiss had been a one-time thing. A slip. A lapse in judgement, a give-in to temptation, a brush against what might have been. That was all. She knew he respected Elizabeth too much to try to make it into the new way of things, and that he respected her too much for that, too. He just wasn't the type. If he had been, she wasn't sure she'd like him. Perhaps in the way that she liked Jack, maybe, but that was entirely different.

In any case, her new lessons with Will were proving to be a good distraction (for the both of them, she suspected, although she never raised the matter of Elizabeth's supposed wedding to him, and he returned the favour rather gallantly), and she ended each day exhausted, sore, and much too fatigued to think about much at all. He was a good teacher - patient, yes, but more importantly knowledgeable regarding what it was that he was teaching. It was near enough impossible to tell that he was self-taught in the art of swordsmanship, save for perhaps the fact that he didn't know all of the technical terms for the moves that he showed her. That suited Theodora just fine, though, for there was nothing to muddle things as they did their best to commit the moves to her muscle memory. It was a good thing that her arms were never fully exposed around here, for the definition she was gaining in them would be sure to arouse suspicion. She liked to think it was coming along quite nicely, and it was when they fell into the sand for a breather on the day of their final lesson that Will surprised her.

"I've something for you."

"A going away gift? You shouldn't have."

He made a face "Technically, it's already yours. I should've returned it to you long before now, but I confess I worried that Commodore Norrington may still harbour suspicions as to your loyalties. He's much less wont to go through my belongings than yours."

All Theo could really do was blink owlishly and wait for him present whatever it was he had for her. Making a face, he shifted so that he could slip a hand into the pocket of his breeches. It took her a few minutes to realise what it was he held out to her when she saw it, and when she did, tears immediately sprang to her eyes. Her wallet.

"I…Is that?" She stared between him and it in disbelief, not quite daring to hope that it was.

"I saved it from The Interceptor - well, in truth it was on my person before the battle even began. I didn't think it wise to risk any of the crew happening across it in search of anything valuable."

Once she'd shaken herself out of her astonishment, Theo realised he was justifying himself to her. Had he misread her face?

"Thank you," she said quickly, finally accepting it (much to his great apparent relief) "Really, Will, thank you. I…You're a star. An absolute legend."

He didn't blush under her compliments, glancing behind them to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed as she opened the wallet and pulled out the photographs.

"They survived, more or less."

"Me dad badgered me into laminating them," she explained, despite the fact that he wouldn't find much sense in that explanation "I'm glad he did now."

He'd insisted that if she was adamant in wanting to carry such sentimental photos around with her, that she should at least have them well protected. That any place that had her missing home to such an extent was likely to be a bit rough, if not entirely inhospitable. It made sense, but at the time it had seemed like a whole lot of effort. Effort that was now well worth it. At most, they were slightly waterlogged around the edges, but not ruined. Far from ruined. The wallet itself was in a bit of a sad shape, white saltwater residue crusted around the edges, but that didn't matter. The newspaper clipping hadn't survived - now mostly illegible and warped by the water damage, but she couldn't quite bring herself to throw it away, instead slotting what remained of it back into the pocket it had been tucked away into.

She flicked through the photos only long enough to check what state they were in, and reassure herself that she really did have them back…but only after making the mistake of lingering on the first one (of her dogs, of all things), before promptly regretting it thanks to the pangs that it sent through her chest. It was difficult to say what was worse - missing home, or growing used to missing home. So used to it, in fact, that the longing for it was now downright bearable. Maybe it was even fading. So much had happened in the months that she'd been here that it felt like she hadn't been home in decades. Much too long for the homesickness to be any real, tangible, destructive force save for when things were particularly bad. Or when she was particularly drunk.

It was something that should have reassured her, but in truth it scared her, for it made her worry that there might yet come a day when she stopped fighting so fiercely to return home. After all, her primary objective had already shifted, had it not? Now she was stuck here until she saved James' life. If she saved it. And even then, that would hardly leave her free to return home, for she'd already promised Jack that she would be of some use to him - something which she'd thus far failed at pretty bloody miserably. That was yet another problem she'd have to contend with, and she knew she was royally fucked considering it still seemed to pale in comparison to the woes that filled her mind when she thought of James bloody Norrington.

She missed the days when her prevailing heart-related problem was her utter disinterest in any sort of relationship.

"The big day is tomorrow. You're certain you won't be there?"

"Positive," she nodded.

"I'm guessing that means Commodore Norrington will fare just fine. Will Elizabeth?"

Better than Will could likely dream. But that would be ruining the surprise.

Instead, Theo sighed "If she wouldn't, I'd do something. Or at least tell you so that you could do something."

"I thought so," he nodded, apparently satisfied with her candour "But I had to ask. I had to be sure."

"I understand. I'd ask the same if the shoe was on the other foot."

"And will you fare well?"

"I told you, I won't be there."

"That's not what I mean. After - with Jack. It seems an odd sort of place for a…" he caught wind of her unimpressed expression and wisely changed his course "…for anybody."

Theo smiled, shaking her head in a way that was almost fond "Nice save."

He bowed his head in thanks, offering a tired but amused smile. Whatever fundamental differences in character predisposed them to each rub the other the wrong way, however she'd overlooked him as a do-gooder pretty boy in the beginning (which was stupid of her, considering she'd lamented the fact that James was often similarly overlooked by movie goers back home), they'd formed a steady camaraderie in their roles of unrequited sad bastards. The respect she'd formed for him after he'd knocked her on her arse more times than she could count did rather help…and the fact that she'd reacted to that with little other than a smile and a determination to get her feet beneath her in order to do it all over again seemed to gain her a bit of respect in his eyes, too.

"You just don't seem like the sort to run because of how things are with the two of them," he pointed out stubbornly "Especially not when…not when neither of the two even seem particularly happy."

"They're not."

There was no harm in saying it. Not on the eve of the big day. Will's train of thought was clear - he'd already made up his mind to confess his feelings to Elizabeth before he made his move. Probably fearing it would be his last chance, really. Theo wagered that disagreeing with him, or even not saying anything at all, would only sow doubt in his mind as to whether he should do that. No, it was one occasion where silence absolutely would not help her - despite how comfortable she'd grown with that approach since first arriving here.

"So stay. Fight for him. Build a life here."

"Will, stop. Please," she groaned "I can't. It's not an excuse, I can't. The way things are…the way things have to be…it's a lot. Does a very big part of me want to? Of course. But it's just not an option. And anyway, I gave Jack my word. I won't break it."

"He would break his to you in a heartbeat should it serve him," Will said.

But despite the harshness of the words, they were said fondly…and almost entirely without conviction.

"I think he's much rather the type to avoid giving me his word than to break it entirely. Maybe if I was his enemy that would be different, but I'm not. He tries to hide it however he can, bless him, but he's good deep down. Would he double-cross me small-scale? Maybe. Probably. Would he betray me in a way there was no coming back from? I doubt it. He's a pain in the arse, he's not bad."

"He's not," Will agreed with a sigh "And he's proven that. But he always has his own scheme going on over on the side-lines. I hope it's something you're prepared for."

"Don't have much of a choice on that score."

The exasperated look he gave her spoke volumes about how much he believed that. But his belief didn't change her mind, for it was entirely made up.

Even if she wasn't still licking her wounds over where James' feelings for her were placed on his list of priorities, leaving would be the only thing that she could do. When Beckett came knocking with his arrest warrants for crimes where the penalty was a place on the gallows right beside Jack, James could not be here. Elizabeth and Will would be fine, she knew that for a fact. There was no guarantee of the same with James, and if her goal was to save his life, saving him from ways he wasn't meant to die stood side-by-side with the way he was fated to die on the roster of her enemies.

It was tempting to stay. To doll herself up while the hanging was foiled and wait patiently for James to return home afterwards and announce that they could be married after all…since Elizabeth would not have him. Hell, if she did her best to ignore her own pathetic insecurities about being the furthest thing from what was considered a desirable woman in this time, she might even believe that she would have been what he'd chosen first if he'd been able to go back and choose differently, still knowing what he knew now. Alas, it seemed she was the only one here who had been gifted the ability to travel through time. Despite that pretty picture, though - the one where he swept her up into his arms and they rode off into the sunset - it was only a pretty one in the short-term.

How long of a head start was it that he gave Jack in the movies? One day? Two? That would be all the time they'd have to celebrate their ability to be together. Then he'd be off in hot pursuit of the notorious Jack Sparrow, before promptly losing everything. It was a fact that stung her to think of, however temporary she knew the loss to be - because she knew just how much it would sting him. And then where would that leave him? The losses he would soon endure would cut all the deeper if they were inflicted while he thought he had her depending on him and his success as his betrothed. If he even wanted such a thing with her at all. But that was how they did it here, wasn't it? People didn't date, they proposed. After a courtship, maybe, but there hadn't seemed to be much of one with Elizabeth. Maybe courting was a thing reserved for people who weren't sure they wanted to be together. For people who hadn't secretly snogged three times so far - following that, maybe it would be an insult if marriage was just a "maybe" in his mind rather than a definite.

And that opened up a whole other can of worms. For, by that logic, being with James meant marrying him. Marrying him meant staying here forever. Theo sighed heavily, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands lest Will begin his interrogations anew. Going down that train of thought would fix nothing in the here-and-now. The fact remained in any case that James would be better off departing for Tortuga to drown his sorrows in the coming months. One might not think so, giving the state that doing so would leave him in, but it was a far sight better than dancing the gallows jig.

They would meet again. It was a reunion that filled her with more trepidation even than when she'd been waiting for him to rescue her from that bloody island…and that was saying a lot. And it was that dread which had her sighing and turning to Will.

"Come on. One last bout - for old time's sake."

He either saw no need to argue with her as he stood and took up his sword, or he knew that arguing would do him no good. Clever lad.

When Theo opened her eyes the next morning, she immediately sighed and closed them again. She'd stayed up until a ridiculous time the night before, trying to soak in the last small shred of peace and quiet she'd likely have for a long time. In the end, her night's sleep amounted to little more than a nap. But she wasn't tired. There wasn't much room to be tired, given all that buzzed around her brain. Given the footsteps and shuffling of papers she'd heard coming from James' study throughout the night, he was in much the same state. There were a few times that she'd almost gotten up to check in on him - maybe they'd have been able to share a drink, have a chat, and steal away at least an hour's distraction. In the old days, she wouldn't have hesitated to do so.

But these weren't the old days, and she worried that if she tried it anyway she'd either be turned away, find herself sitting in awkward silence and wishing she hadn't bothered. It didn't matter if her worries showed on her face, though. Given what James thought was about to take place, it'd have been rather more suspicious if she was floating around the house whistling a cheerful little tune to herself.

When the sun began to rise she slipped out of bed, pulled on her mauve housecoat, and then hesitated only once her hand was on the doorknob. It was probably going to be awkward. Conversations between them did tend to be these days - too overly polite to feel natural, with the both of them only able to think about the elephant in the room, all while being aware that the other was thinking about it too as the both of them pretended they were not. Maybe it was the sort of thing that people around here were used to - all of that repression and pretence. Theo found it intolerable. Especially in comparison to how natural being around him had once felt. Christ, it usually had her forgetting who she was - where she was. Simply being, rather than worrying about what that being looked like.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled sharply and then opened the door. She'd regret avoiding him more.

Padding down the stairs, she checked the dining room and found it empty, so instead turned towards the living room. James sat on the couch, fully dressed for the day but without his wig, long legs stretched before him with his hands folded in his lap as he stared into space. When she walked in, his head raised and he blinked at her in surprise.

"Expecting somebody else?" She joked weakly.

"Hattie, perhaps," he admitted "I did not expect to see you this morning. Nor today at all."

"Well…" she trailed off and shrugged slightly as if to say 'here I am'.

He tried and failed to muster a tired smile at that, watching with undisguised surprise as she skirted the room before lowering herself to perch on the edge of the chaise lounge.

"It's a distasteful business, I shan't pretend I think otherwise. Not here, at least."

"The law doesn't really allow for nuance," she replied.

"No," he said with a humourless chuckle "Indeed it doesn't. You're still determined not to attend?"

"I can't," she shook her head "Will that create problems for you?"

"None that I cannot handle. You…you were correct. On the beach. I've demanded your understanding one time too many, I shan't do it here."

"Considering how much you've given me, I don't think I'm really allowed to complain."

He fixed her with a rueful look, green eyes boring into her "I don't keep inventory of it in my mind so that I might exact repayment when it suits me."

"It might be easier for me if you did," she snorted.

It was difficult feeling justified in being angry with somebody who had done so much for her with no expectation, nor any desire, for repayment. Nor somebody who found this whole situation as upsetting as she did. Shit, even if he'd secretly been some mad bastard who had set out to do this to her, she'd still find it difficult to be angry at him because he'd gone and made her love him in the process. She didn't want him to feel like shit. She didn't want him to lose everything. But her hands were tied in this matter as much as his were when it came to Jack. All in all, he appeared just as exhausted as she felt.

Rather than admonish her or brush her off, James nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. And then he spoke without looking at her.

"A request, then," he said.

Theo watched in silence, waiting, half-dreading that he'd ask her to go to the the hanging after all and she'd have to refuse, thus ruining whatever strange peace this was between them on this morning. When she didn't reply, he glanced up for the slightest second to see if she was listening, or maybe just to gauge her reaction, and whatever he found there must've been reassuring because he then continued, but not before hesitating and clearing his throat.

"Your friendship."

Theo blinked, and when he received no reaction he seemed to take it as a green light to elaborate.

"If this marriage goes ahead, it would only be natural if you needed time. I'd likely need the same, myself - to adjust. But…eventually…I would like us to remain friends. To at least speak, or…or exchange letters," he trailed off, scoffing at himself and shaking his head, apparently deciding he sounded ridiculous "And when you yourself marry, I shall endeavour to handle the news with as much grace as you have."

The sad smile slipped onto her face without giving her much of a say in the matter. It wasn't often that such a word - grace - was attributed to her.

"I reacted to the news by alternating sleeping and getting drunk for three days, I don't know if I'd call that grace."

"And I'm not sure if I can promise I will not do the same, should you remain here rather than returning to Ireland…and should I feel then how I feel now. But maybe, in the future…the dust will settle. We can build futures that are still good, even if they are not the ones we most desire."

She sank her teeth into her lower lip so that it wouldn't tremble, hating how bloody sweet he was being.

"You'll always have my friendship. Wherever I am."

"Good," he nodded, and then repeated the word softly "…Good. Thank you."

Needing something to do - something to occupy herself before the guilt gnawing at her tore a hole in her chest - Theo stood. Stepping towards him, she paused, before resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. His smile was tight-lipped as he lifted one of his own hands and placed it atop her own, dwarfing it.

"I should…I should go and get ready," she said shakily, slipping her hand away after a few moments and stepping back "I'll, erm…I'll see you later, yeah?"

Much, much later.

"I should be leaving too," he sighed, rising "We'll speak at dinner. You'll be well here on your own?"

"You know me, I always manage," she couldn't look at him as she turned and hurried from the room, her determination to not get emotional fast failing her.

Once she was upstairs, her wait to hear the front door open and close to signal his departure afforded her the time she needed to pull herself together. Once it did, there was no room for emotion. She changed quickly into the clothes she'd once again stolen from his wardrobe, slid her pack of provisions out from under her bed…and then she paused outside the door to James' study once she stepped out into the hallway. Okay, maybe there was room for a little emotion. A gesture. A simple one, but hopefully one he would understand.

James felt lighter than he had in weeks - months, no, years - as he walked out of Fort Charles little more than an hour later. Far lighter than any man who'd just been forsaken for a blacksmith had any right to feel. But it mattered little - more than that, it mattered not at all. Within moments he was atop a horse. He had no idea whose, nor did he care, all he cared about was getting home; returning to Theodora, begging her forgiveness, asking for - no, pleading for her hand in marriage. Now there was a thought. Marriage to Theodora. And what a thought it was - how right it felt. They could be married before the year was through - before the week was through, propriety be damned. If she would have him. He couldn't help but hope, though. After all, this was the sort of solution they'd been pleading with the heavens for.

It was his high hopes that had him urging the horse through the streets at a pace that was downright ridiculous, and when it finally reached his house he almost grudged the time it took him to draw to a halt and climb down, barely able to cling to the patience he needed to wait until he strode through the front door before he was calling her name.

"Theodora?" He called "Theodora!"

It was Hattie who answered his call, stepping out of the sitting room with a basket full of wood for the hearth.

"Did she not find you, sir?" She blinked at him.

"Find me?" James frowned breathlessly, already up the first couple of stairs, having expected to find her in her bedroom.

"She left not long after you did - called out to me and said she was going to catch up and attend the hanging after all."

James stared at her, waiting for her words to make sense and instead only finding a slowly encroaching sense of horror. There was no part of him that even slightly believed she'd changed her mind on the hanging. She'd been adamant, in fact, that she would not attend.

He'd been here before. It had not ended well. No - God in heaven, no. Dragged by instinct and fear alone, he turned on his heel and sprinted up the stairs towards his study, taking them two or three at a time as he heard the basket clatter to the floor so that Hattie could follow in hot pursuit, having likely guessed at what was happening.

It would be fine, he fought to tell himself. He was wrong - paranoid, even. He would get to his study and find nothing. She'd gone swimming, or perhaps even truly to the fort. She'd be back soon. Word would reach her of what had happened, and she'd return smiling, and then he would smile too, both at his own foolish fears and at the prospect of what he could now finally do. The denial in his thoughts was plain for what it was when he all but stormed into the room and found a book sitting square in the middle of the desk that he had not left there. For a moment James simply stood and stared at it, his heart rapidly sinking.

Was this it? Not even a note this time? A book?

"Leave me," he demanded of Hattie, who complied swiftly with little other than a look of wide-eyed sorrow.

Striding towards the desk, he regarded the book as though it were lying in wait, simply looking for a chance to strike. When it did not, his eyes scanned the cover. Hamlet. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or weep. Only when he was quite sure that he would do neither, did he pick it up. She'd left it for a reason, perhaps there was some clue. Some message. Anything that might inspire closure - for he did not dare to hope. Something was wedged between the pages, marking a certain point.

Taking great care not to lose the page, for it had been placed there very deliberately, he opened the book and clenched his jaw. Theodora's necklace slipped down the page and dropped into his hand - a simple silver pendant in a neat heart shape, on an equally simple chain. The only memento she still had from her home - from Ireland - to hear her tell it.

Curling his fingers tightly around it, he stared down at the page, waiting for the words on it to even begin to make sense. When they did, he almost wished that they had not. After all, she'd warned him, had she not? She'd set out a list of all of the things that he had, in her mind, chosen over her time and time again. Could he now reasonably be upset that she'd grown tired of waiting for him to change his mind on that score, knowing perhaps that he may never do so? No. No, he could not. Lowering himself into the chair behind the desk, James discarded his hat, and then his wig, allowing it to sink in that he had nobody but himself to thank for the fact that this had happened.

But, despite that - despite the regret and the anger he felt at himself rising up through his chest - he wasn't entirely without hope. The pad of his thumb swept across the smooth surface of the pendant. It was hardly a gesture devoid of meaning, and it certainly wasn't one that left any doubt in his mind as to whether he'd give chase. No, if he did have any remaining doubts on whether he should go after her, whether he should make things right, the words on the page she'd chosen would have dispelled them entirely - the ones that mirrored the very same ones he'd spoken to her regarding his own feelings.

Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love.

His fingertips toyed idly with the silver chain as he read and then reread the words. It could have been a farewell. He feared that it was intended to be a farewell, truth be told. But he would not allow it to remain one forever, not with such a gesture sitting neatly in his palm. So…hope it was, then.

End of Part One

A/N: This is where the credits roll and He's A Pirate blares while you all curse me to high heavens. The amount of chocolate I consumed while writing this one is quite frankly ungodly. Okay, so I did play with the idea of creating a whole new story for the next part and having it be a sequel because it's going to end up getting ridiculous in length by the time we're done, but it just seemed like a whole load of faff to have you guys then have to go and follow that, so I'm just going to structure it like three different parts all within one story. Like when you buy The Lord of the Rings all in one volume (questionable Tolkien comparison aside, because I'm not that delusional!).

Okay, it's now time for me to take a break, actually work a little bit more on my original novel, create a detailed map of where this story is going to go from here beyond the outline that exists in my brain - all while watching movies 2 & 3 until I hate them and start cursing myself for choosing to take on such a challenging story as if I'm not loving every second of it. I shall return next year for All Of The Angst. I hope you all have a fantastic holiday season, a very happy start to 2022, and that you know how stupidly emotional I get over the amazingly kind responses you've given me and my little story. Here's hoping I don't fuck up the next two thirds!